


Host

by BitchFaceSam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Bruises, Demon!Stiles, Demonic Possession, M/M, Top!Stiles, bottom!Derek, mostly just an excuse to write porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitchFaceSam/pseuds/BitchFaceSam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek notices the instant Stiles changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Host

[ ](http://bitchfacesam.tumblr.com)

Derek notices the instant Stiles changes. 

It’s not just his scent, even though that changes drastically, too. It’s more, it’s the way Stiles smiles, going from his normal, awkward fucking _perfect_ self to suddenly smirking, lips curling in something more feral than Derek’s wolf, emitting this _power_ that makes Derek  want to go belly up, to cower and shake in fear of the unknown beast he can feel lurking behind Stiles eyes.

The power he feels from his wolf, which is almost uncontrollable since he’s become Alpha, is shaking in comparison to whatever’s happened. Derek feels pity, pity for the Stiles that was, that innocent, human boy who’s suddenly just gone. Enough that he decides to try and find out what’s happened. He knows he shouldn’t, shouldn’t involve himself when he’s got his pack to sort out and more importantly, shouldn’t get involved in anything because he most definitely hadn’t forgotten Kate and what happened the last time he’d gotten involved in things he shouldn’t have.

He shows up at Stiles’s house, anyway.

Stiles is laying on his bed, which is unusual because Stiles is Stiles and he’s always doing something. Moving, talking, reading. _Talking_. Seeing him still is odd and Derek falters at the window, hands hesitating over the wooden trim.

“Come on in,” Stiles calls and the way it rolls over him makes Derek shudder.

Stiles is sitting when Derek crawls through the window.

Stiles motions for him to sit down and the idea of putting Stiles instantly in control of the situation by obeying is enough to make him hesitate, but when he notices Stiles eyes have turned a molten, shining black, he heels and does as told, sitting and turning to Stiles.

“What,” Derek pauses, voice dropping as he tries his best to curb his snarl, “have you done to him. What are you?”

Stiles, no, the thing, sighs dramatically and leans against the wall, lifting Stile’s hand to give a little flourish. “I’m actually surprised you caught on. Your puppies weren’t so observant.”

“I also noticed you failed to answer my question. Either of them.” Derek’s practicing his breathing exercises. This thing radiates energy. He wants to kneel, wants to lick at this creature with this strength oozing from it, wants to submit out of awe and fear.

“I’m a demon.” And there it is, that telling smirk, that quip of the lips that has Derek more terrified  of than anything he’s ever been in his life because it’s screaming of the confidence that it could lean over and tear out Derek’s intestines with its bare hands.

Derek’s heard things. He’s never seen a demon, but he knows there are hunters after them just as much as there are hunters for wolves. He pities it for a moment, but then the fear settles in again and he tenses.

“Why are you in Stiles?” Derek finally asks.

“He was available.” The thing shrugs. “Wrong place, wrong time, all that jazz. Though he’s quite comfy. Not much in the looks department, not like you,” it leers suggestively, “but he suffices. He’s a smart one, that’s a nice bonus.”

He smells dark, like Stiles body, like cinnamon and Old Spice and Adderall, but also like night and fire and Derek doesn’t resist when the thing leans forward and hooks a finger under Derek’s jaw and turns his face to the side, running his eyes along the line of his jaw. 

“I’ve actually never seen a werewolf before,” the thing confesses, Stiles’s eyes dropping as it surveys Derek approvingly. “This kid, he’s still here you know. Freaking out actually. He seems to be terribly afraid yet terribly attached to you.”

Derek says nothing, but doesn’t fight back, either, when the thing is leaning forward and shoving Stiles’s lips against his, hands going for his wrists as Stile’s is moving him over, climbing on top of him, biting and tearing at Derek’s lips. His wolf is howling at how strong the thing is, at the way it can pin Derek’s hands above his head and he literally cannot move, even after he lets the shift fade in and out. The domination is drunkening. 

Derek lets himself be flipped onto his stomach an he’s so close to whimpering like a fucking puppy that he bites onto his bottom lip, the last of his pride bleeding out as his teeth sink into his flesh. He can feel his cock dripping, can feel it achingly hard against the zipper of his jeans.

It, Stiles, is grinding against him, hands darting around to work on removing Derek’s pants even as his teeth start biting into Derek’s shoulder through his shirt. Derek raises his hips in response to the bites, presses backwards with panty gasps.

Derek needs, fucking needs this thing to touch him. Needs to be shown his place. Needs to give up to something so obviously stronger than him that there is no fighting it because instinct is self preservation and he knows if he challenged this demon that he would be dead.

The idea sends him over the edge and he’s coming in his pants, dick pulsating hotly and jizz spreading along the skin of his upper thighs.

He’s almost ashamed when his jeans are off and the trail of sticky come runs from his cock to the fabric, but Stiles looks kind of pleased so Derek doesn’t even care.

“This kid is almost ready to lose it in here. Man, oh man, did he want to touch you.”

Derek whines then, an animalistic, desperate whine and the demon, it’s got to feel something at that because it’s pulling down Stiles’s pants and spitting on his hands and running those fingers along Derek, pauses for a moment to push against his ass, spreading the flesh, spitting some more and slicking him up, and then he lines up his cock and pushes in. It’s tight and Derek’s ass burns but more importantly he’s pushing back that way, likes the way the pain keeps him grounded, keeps him stable.

Stiles’s hands are rough on his hips, now, squeezing and bruising and he’s moving quicker than Derek knows a human can move. He can feel his nails lengthen  feel his teeth grow as shifts slightly, the feeling of dominance so overwhelming. 

Derek can feel when Stiles comes, feels the jizz filling him, and, although he didn’t come twice, he still feels boneless and exhausted and waits for the thing to get up and get off him. The feeling, whatever had come over him, seemed to be dulled for the moment. Not so much like a needy heat or pack power play but just an awkward after sex moment.

“Don’t worry,” it sighs and stands, “I’m not planning on staying long. I wanna find a body more my style. But, that was pretty fun. Tell you what. You give me some time to move on, I won’t kill you. Does that sound like a sweet deal or what? I’ll even leave the kid alive so you two can do that again. I promise you, he’s more than willing. Now he’s embarrassed, cute. I’m starting to like him. He’s quite the narrator up here.”

Derek pauses. He’s not sure how to kill the thing and he’s not sure how to get it out, so trusting him for the day and hoping the thing sticks to its word is his best bet. “You have twenty-four hours, then I want you out of him.”

The thing beams. “Trust me, you won’t regret it. Although, I do request that that happens again sometime in my twenty-four hours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking about doing another in this verse. It's tempting. Posted on AO3 from my tumblr due to request.


End file.
